zorkian: Icon full of binary ones and zeros in no pattern. (Default)
Setting: Tuesday morning, approximately 11:15 AM. Bathroom. Mark Smith is actively engaged in waste elimination activities of the #2 variety. Subject is drowsy, running a low grade fever, coughing, and slept fitfully. Currently is debating returning to bed. In the next room, about fifteen feet away, is subject's girlfriend. She has pneumonia. She's still asleep.

First person retelling of the episode under consideration ...

There I was, no shit, really. But seriously, I was sitting there on the toilet. In my bathroom. In my windowless bathroom, I add because it will soon become relevant. I'm leaning forward with my elbows on my knees, waiting to -- well, to finish. Surprisingly, something thunks into my head and then falls straight down. From the perspective of my eyes, something hit me in the head and fell down.

Well, okay. That's strange, but no cause for alarm. Maybe I had something in my hair? Oh wait, but it hit me in the head. Maybe something fell off of the ceiling? That's weird, what would fall off of the ceiling? I look up, and don't see anything. Just the ceiling and the vent fan. Everything looks pretty normal.

A few moments later, I look back down, to see if I can see whatever it was that just caromed off of my head. It takes me a few moments to spot it, but finally my eyes resolve the familiar yellow and black striping of...

Oh shit, there's a wasp in my boxers!

The next step is problematic. The wasp looked like he was about to take flight, and I wasn't really sure what to do. I willfully suppressed my urge to shout (to avoid waking the sleeping girlfriend in the next room) but I still had a very immediate, very pressing problem. There was a wasp between my legs and I was pretty effectively restrained by my current state of being in the middle of the excretion process and, quite literally, had my pants down around my ankles.

From my position, I was able to grab a coffee cup off of the counter and a piece of paper. Carefully, carefully, I began Operation Do Not Get Stung In The Testicles Whatever You Do. The wasp turned out to be easily coaxed, and through some magic of luck, skill, and absolutely not screaming, I managed to get it into the cup and put the paper on top.

Thereupon I finished my business, very, very carefully checked my boxers and pants for more interlopers, and went out into the living room to shudder.

Ari woke up a little bit later, I showed her the creature and told her my tail, and we let it go outside.

Subject's adrenaline has started to level off, but is now complaining of hunger.


zorkian: Icon full of binary ones and zeros in no pattern. (Default)
Mark Smith

April 2017

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